Chapter 1
ONE
A week later . . .
“Again!” the photographer, Art, barks. He’s supposed to be the best, hence the astronomical fees I paid to have this done.
If we want to be taken seriously at the world championships, then we need to look the part.
I’m not sparing any expense when it comes to new racing portraits, videos, gear, and cars.
Mackie frowns but nods. He’s posed before a white backdrop in the garage. Art took all morning to set it up, so we are behind, but we have already finished Skylar’s shoot.
Art and Mackie don’t seem to get along at all, and I can see Mackie is nervous. This is a big deal, and he doesn’t do well in front of cameras. It’s why I try to keep him out of the spotlight as much as I can, but this is important, and he did it for me and the team.
He poses in the way Art directed, and the camera starts snapping.
I meet Mackie’s eyes for a moment, and even from this distance, they implore me to talk to him, so I avert my gaze to the screen that displays the photos.
Art drops the camera, checks the screen, and mutters to himself while Mackie stands there awkwardly, looking around before meeting my and Art’s gazes.
“I think we need to loosen up a bit,” Mackie calls. “We look too stiff. I know these need to be professional, but it isn’t us. We shouldn’t pretend to be something we aren’t.”
“If you want to be taken seriously, you will listen to my direction,” Art snaps. “Now, chin up. How many times have I told you already? You’re attractive but not too bright.” Mackie’s jaw drops open, but I’m already on my feet and in front of the camera, glaring at Art.
Nobody disrespects Mackie—uh, my team.
It’s my job to protect them, and they shouldn’t be harassed or insulted at work.
“Enough.”
Art pales, all his bravado disappearing, and I advance until his camera is pressed against my chest.
“Don’t insult my boys. You are here to do a job, so do it.”
“You want it done? Find someone else. Your boys,” he mocks, “are crap. I don’t need this.” He storms off, and I watch him go, pinching the bridge of my nose as Mackie steps in front of me.
“I’m sorry, Noah.” He looks so crestfallen, I want to pull him into my arms and assure him it’s fine. That would be inappropriate, though, and give him the wrong impression, so I simply force a smile.
“It’s okay. We got some shots, so we can make them work,” I promise as softly as I can. “It isn’t your fault, Mackie. He was being an argumentative prick. What he said wasn’t true. You know that, right?”
He nods, chewing on his lip, and just like every time he does that, I have to fist my hands to stop myself from freeing that abused lip. He has no idea how crazy he drives me.
“Why don’t you go get some food? You haven’t eaten today.” I push him toward the back. “Go.”
He does as he’s told, but his shoulders are slumped, and I know I’ll need to talk to him later.
The kid has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen, and he takes everything personally, never wanting to upset or anger anyone.
It’s why I’m so protective of him. He’s such a people pleaser, even to me.
It’s one of my concerns, that he’s so intent on pleasing me, he doesn’t know his own feelings.
He’s so young, and he has so much ahead of him and things to figure out. I could be a passing crush for him, hence the distance I have created, which both of us hate, but it’s for the best
Sky stops at my side, watching him go, and grins at me. He’s about to give me shit. He always does when it comes to Mackie, pushing us together. He means well, but one of these days, I’m going to smack that smirk off his face or let his boy do it for me.
He whistles. “How much did that cost you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug.
“Thousands, all to protect your boy. When are you going to admit it?” he teases.
“It was for the team. I would do the same for you,” I grumble.
“Sure you would, old man. Keep telling yourself that.” He slaps my side.
“I’m going to eat. If you’re hungry, and you look starving, you know where Mackie is.
Oops, I mean food.” He darts away before I can kick him.
My headache is in full bloom now. I wonder if I’m going to make it through this next season.
Between the kid who thinks he’s in love with me testing my patience and the kid who’s always in trouble, I have my hands full.
The photos from Art are shit. I don’t know if he sabotaged them or if they were this bad before.
Even though I paid him in full, he had someone else drop them off and has ghosted us, so despite the fact that they are complete crap and my boys look miserable, I don’t have much hope of getting better ones.
Throwing the photos down on the table, I drop my head back as I stare up at the ceiling. “They aren’t . . . terrible,” Alek says as he searches through them.
“They are,” Evan adds from his side. The boy is here every chance he gets, and Alek is always so happy when he turns up.
They are too cute for me to be mad at, and besides, I like Evan.
He’s good for Alek. “There’s no . . . spark in them.
Anyone can shoot photos, but you need to be able to portray what you are capturing and bring out the best of it. This is not it.”
“Shit, then what do we do?” Alek looks to me to solve the problem. Everyone always does.
Lifting my head, I glance at them before a noise draws my attention to Mackie, who’s practicing in the sim.
He’s completely oblivious, so I allow myself to stare.
His hair is getting longer, falling messily into his face.
He needs to cut it, but it makes him look .
. . cute. He curses as he spins the wheel, and my lips twitch.
“Noah.” Alek sighs, and I look back at him. He raises a knowing eyebrow, and I clear my throat, scanning the images.
“We’ll need to reshoot them. Evan is right. It wasn’t easy finding someone who could do it though,” I reply. I love to solve my own problems, so admitting this is hard.
“I can ask Conan,” Evan says, and I frown, not understanding what he means. “My boss at my internship is a renowned photographer. He mainly does landscapes and magazines, but I might be able to bribe him.”
“Do it,” I say. “I can pay whatever he wants as long as they come out good. I’m desperate.”
“I’ll ask this afternoon. I’m heading to his office to drop off the USB stick from this morning,” Evan explains. “I’ll take your car, babe, and pick you up tonight.”
“Sure thing, pretty boy. Drive safely and text me when you get there.” Alek pulls him down for a kiss, uncaring who is watching, then smacks his ass. “Be good.”
“You too, no fighting.” He points at us before heading out.
“He’s way too good for you,” I drawl.
“I fucking know it.” Alek laughs as he looks at the photos again. “Let’s hope he can convince Conan.”
“What’s he like?” I ask. “This Conan?”
“Artsy,” Alek concludes. “Kind of a loner. Evan says he’s old money, attractive, whatever that means, and very sophisticated, but he seems like a good guy. He looks after Evan well enough, and I’ll admit his photos are good. He’s won a bunch of awards, so we’d be lucky to have him.”
“Good, that’s what we need.” I look at Mackie as he stretches, his Starfire jersey rising to show an expanse of hard, chiseled abs from his low-slung jeans. Ink peeks out above them, and not for the first time, I wonder what he has tattooed there.
I’ll never find out, since I can’t cross that line with my racer, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering.